


On Things Not Spoken, or Not Mad But Mated

by MelayneSeahawk



Series: Good Omens Kink Meme [21]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (a little bit), (discussions of) - Freeform, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Biting, Book Elements, But Aziraphale Is Into It, But the Sex Is Honestly Pretty Normal, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Enthusiastic Consent, Getting Together, Gift Fic, Good Omens Kink Meme, Hairy Aziraphale, I Did the Research and Then I Ignored It, M/M, Marking, Mating Urge, Nesting, No Breeding Kink, No mpreg, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Random references, Scents & Smells, Show Elements, Skinny Crowley, Snake Demon Crowley, Snektember, Speciesfluid Character, Speciesfluid Crowley, Weird Biology, Xeno, and they talk about it, italics abuse, just an excuse for smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: "For Crowley, who’s both a snake and demon (sneemon Sorry), imprints on Aziraphale the day they meet in Eden, and his snakey demon brain automatically thinks ‘MINE’ with capital letters. Crowley, being Crowley, spends 6,000 years doing his best to suppress thinking like this - because Aziraphale is his own person, he’s noble, etc. Though he feels proud when he’s able to do things like rescue him or do him favors because it scratches the ‘good mate’ itch he has.He loves Aziraphale and would want nothing more to be his mate/husband, but he thinks the certain brand of possessiveness that comes with his mate drive is terrible/scary and that Aziraphale deserves better.Eventually, it comes out in the present day and Aziraphale finds out that Crowley can’t help but consider them mates, and very thoroughly agrees because he is NOT offended by the possessiveness in the slightest, in fact, he encourages it. They get together quite rigorously."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Kink Meme [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535939
Comments: 30
Kudos: 254
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme, IK Shenanigans, Snektember 2020, Unbalanced Humours





	On Things Not Spoken, or Not Mad But Mated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SugarMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarMagic/gifts).



> written for the [Good Omens Kink Meme](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/) on dreamwidth, prompt: [Crowley suppresses his snake demon urge to claim Aziraphale as his mate, until Aziraphale finds out and is totally into it (no breeding kink, no mpreg)](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/4446.html?thread=3176286#cmt3176286)
> 
> Also a congratulatory gift for SugarMagic; you know why ;)
> 
> Also also for [Snektember](https://puppy-bums.tumblr.com/post/626849798166904832/welcome-to-snektember-like-september-but-make-it), prompts: mating rituals, snake attributes, seductive.
> 
> Second half of the title is a reference to Shakespeare's _The Comedy of Errors_ , because Crowley likes the funny ones. Much thanks to Kittyknowsthings and paintpot for title help, and for Lang and others in the IK Discord for Britishisms help.
> 
> self-betaed, un-Britpicked, we Fall like Crowley

Crawley had a problem. It’s not even a problem he knew he could  _ have _ until now, until he’d looked at the angel and a voice deep inside of him had yelled  _ MINE _ so loudly he was honestly surprised the angel hadn’t heard it. He was sure the dumbstruck look on his face was obvious to anyone with eyes, but thankfully the angel seemed too caught up in his own worries about the sword to notice. Crawley managed to re-engage his brain enough to carry on a conversation, but he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him when the angel put out a wing to protect him from the rain. Everything in him wanted to take those last steps to close the distance between them, wrap his arms around the angel’s soft waist, and scent the air around him before burying his snout -- no, his  _ face  _ \-- in the crook of the angel’s neck. It took all his self-control to keep himself from doing just that.

A demon exhibiting self-control. What was the world coming to?

Still, he let his tongue flick out, picking up the freshness of rain and the good green-ness of the garden, but also a hint of vanilla and ozone that  _ might _ be the angel. He stayed under the angel’s wing until the rain had passed, until the angel folded it back and stepped away, and Crawley sighed with regret. There’s a part of him that hoped the angel would return to Heaven, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this, but the rest of him wanted to wrap his arms around the other being and never let go.

Instead, he forced himself to say something glib and transform back into his snake form, working his way down the wall and after the humans. He forced himself to ignore it when the angel followed, muttering something about just wanting to keep an eye on the helpless humans. Pushed the instinct to wrap around the angel way down deep, regretting turning back into the serpent because it only made the longing  _ worse _ .

Yes, this was definitely going to be a problem.

***

The first few decades were torture. The humans were so few that they existed in a single cluster, and Crawley bumped into Aziraphale  _ all the time _ . Eve had teased him about the way he was always struck dumb when the angel appeared unexpectedly -- G-Someone, losing her had ripped him up; not as bad as the Fall, but it still hurt more than he’d expected -- and it took willpower to keep from stealing him away or throwing himself at the angel’s feet every time he saw him. He was able to channel the urges, somewhat, bringing the angel treats as the humans experimented with cooking, scaring off a non-demonic snake that was considering biting him. It was nothing close to what his instincts  _ told _ him to do, but it helped take the edge off just a bit.

Things got both easier and harder once the humans started to spread out and they didn’t see each other as often. Where once they bumped into each other almost every day, now they could go weeks, years, even decades without interacting. It made it easier to focus, not having to worry about the constant refrain of  _ mine mine mine _ in the back of his head, but he missed the angel desperately, and, besides, it all came rushing back whenever they  _ did _ wind up in the same place at the same time. Even when he was angry at Aziraphale -- when the angel didn’t challenge Heaven’s edicts, when he said things like  _ not consulted about policy decisions _ , like that somehow made it better -- the urge still thrummed inside him, the desire to  _ protect _ and to  _ cherish _ , and, yes, to  _ mate _ . He pushed it all down deep, ignored it when he could, redirected it when he couldn’t into oysters in Rome and guantang bao in Kaifeng or chocolates as congratulations for opening the bookshop.

And sometimes Aziraphale actually needed help, whether with a tricky blessing or an actual rescue, and that terrible snake wrapped around his brain hissed in satisfaction, the refrain changing to  _ good mate good provider good protector good mate _ until the high wore off and the bottomless desire returned.

It was appalling, and embarrassing, and Crowley  _ hated _ it. He hated being ruled by Hell -- even if most of the time he was able to do his own thing and ignore them, as long as the reports looked good -- and he hated being ruled by  _ instincts _ that weren’t even connected to anything; neither angels nor demons reproduced, and certainly not  _ sexually _ , so this whole mating drive nonsense was completely misplaced. It was so...mortal. Unpleasant. Sticky, occasionally.

Not that he had a problem with sex, mind you, and he would have happily engaged in a little carnal lust if the angel was interested, but the whole  _ mating drive _ seemed almost disrespectful. Aziraphale was his own man(-shaped being), and it felt wrong to think of him that way, as some  _ thing  _ to be acquired, owned. Besides, it was pretty clear Aziraphale didn’t think of him even remotely that way -- they were friends, even if he sometimes denied it, but there was no way that Aziraphale thought of him as a potential romantic partner -- and the possessiveness alone would be more than enough to scare him away.

Right?

***

The Little Apocalypse That Couldn’t had come and gone, changing so many things but leaving Crowley’s core problem untouched. They were practically attached at the hip, now, spending almost all of their time together, whether it was drinking and talking nonsense in the bookshop’s backroom, walking in St. James’s Park, or exploring London’s culinary scene; Crowley only left Aziraphale’s side to occasionally go back to his flat to take a nap and keep the plants in line, and sometimes he just napped on the backroom couch instead. The refrain of  _ mine mine mine _ was still loud in his mind, but he had most of what he wanted: Aziraphale’s time and attention; the ability to spoil the angel rotten (and rescue him, if needed); the angel’s sweet smiles and ridiculous wiggles and frankly pornographic noises when he tasted something he enjoyed. He didn’t have to hide his affection, didn’t have to pretend he didn’t care. And Aziraphale seemed to return the sentiment, in spades.

So what if they weren’t having sex? Sex wasn’t everything. So  _ what _ if Aziraphale wasn’t his husband, his  _ mate _ ? It was clear Aziraphale loved him, even if it was platonically rather than romantically. He wasn’t even sure Aziraphale was  _ capable _ of romantic love. But he did clearly love Crowley, and that was enough.

Crowley would  _ make _ it be enough.

Even if sometimes Aziraphale looked at him with a softness in his eyes that Crowley  _ yearned _ to interpret as romantic attraction. Even if they touched more often now: linking arms when they walked in the park, hands touching when Aziraphale encouraged him to taste things, shoulders pressed together when Aziraphale occasionally decided to sit on the couch rather than his usual reading chair. It was torture, but the sweetest kind, the kind Crowley would rather beg for more of rather than risk the alternative.

Aziraphale deserved better than Crowley’s possessive streak, and if Crowley had his way, the angel would never find out.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale was sometimes a little more perceptive than Crowley would have liked.

***

His plan only lasted until October, which was honestly pathetic. They were lazing around the bookshop, the weather too damp and too cool for a walk, vague plans for later to order takeaway and watch a movie on the tv set Crowley had insisted Aziraphale buy. Crowley was idly flipping through Twitter on his phone, goading people into arguments about minutiae in the tv shows they watched, though half of his attention (like always) was on the angel on the other side of the room.

Aziraphale was working with some books from a crate he’d bought from an estate sale or something, carefully removing each volume from the box and checking them for damage before sorting them into which needed repairs and which could be added to the shelves in whatever arcane arrangement he had them in this decade. Wherever the books had come from, they were incredibly dusty, and Aziraphale had set aside his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to protect the fabric while he donned a pair of white cotton gloves and went over each volume with some kind of special cleaning cloth.

He’d explained it all to Crowley before he’d started -- the origin of the books and the special cloth and everything -- but Crowley had been too distracted by those soft, perfectly-manicured hands rolling up his sleeves, each cuff a precise width, not to mention the lightly-furred skin of his forearms, which he didn’t think he’d seen since the last time togas had been en vogue for everyday wear.

Aziraphale’s smile -- when he’d finally been able to drag his gaze back to the angel’s face -- had given nothing away, but then it was business as usual: Aziraphale’s focus on his books, Crowley hiding in his phone while trying not to get caught staring. The dusty light caught on the delicate little hairs on Aziraphale’s arms, turning them into strands of gold, and Crowley just wanted to press his face to them, see if they were as soft as they looked…

“My dear, is there something on my face?” Aziraphale asked, jolting Crowley from his reverie, and he looked up guiltily. Aziraphale had a surprisingly wicked little smirk on his face, and now Crowley was staring for a different reason. Was Aziraphale...had he done this on purpose?

“I know I’m showing a scandalous amount of skin,” Aziraphale went on, putting down the book he was holding and stripping off his gloves with a precision that would have made Crowley sweat, if he were into that sort of thing. “I thought you might enjoy the view.”

“Ngk?” Crowley said intelligently, brain in need of a reboot. “Whu...angel?”

“I had assumed you would say something, now that we’re free to be a bit more honest with each other,” Aziraphale said, pacing over to where Crowley was still sprawled on the couch. He sat up quickly, unsure how to react, which just meant that, when Aziraphale reached him, the angel could sink to his knees in front of Crowley, those beautiful hands resting gently but firmly on his denim-clad knees, which was  _ not better _ (except, of course, for how it  _ was _ ). “Then I realized that perhaps you were waiting for me to make the first move, since I’d been the one holding us back in the past.”

“I...what?” Crowley’s desires were at war with each other. The horrible, demonic possessiveness wanted to bury his hands in Aziraphale’s hair, pull him in for a claiming kiss or...other activities Aziraphale could do with his mouth. The part of him that struggled with those urges still wanted to kiss him, but gently, without demands, like  _ normal _ lovers might. And the part of him that was too used to hiding, too used to  _ you go to fast for me _ and all the rest of it, wanted to go over the back of the couch and flee the bookshop entirely.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said simply. “Not just as an angel, meant to love all things. Not just as a friend, though that is part of it. Romantically, physically.  _ Carnally _ , if you will. And I know you love me, too.”

Crowley swallowed, a little terrified. It was so close to what he wanted, but it wasn’t something he could have. It wasn’t safe. “I do,” he said quietly, unable to lie to the angel, even now, with what was at stake. “But that’s not a good thing.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale said. He was still on his knees at Crowley’s feet, and that terrible urge inside him was so very loud.

“I...there are things you don’t know about me, angel,” he tried. “Things I don’t think you’ll like. Things I may not be able to control if you keep...if you keep  _ talking _ like this.”

“What, telling you I love you?” Aziraphale said, with a slightly lopsided smile. “Is this about how you like doing things for me? Or how much you enjoy rescuing me?”

Crowley made another incomprehensible noise and buried his face in his hands, unable to look at the angel any longer. “You don’t understand,” he said, voice somewhat muffled by his palms.

“Then explain it to me,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley’s knees. “I love every part of you that I already know, and I want to know all of you, my darling.”

“You won’t like it,” Crowley warned, dropping his hands, but Aziraphale’s expression was bare and encouraging, similar to the one he used to convince humans to open up to him, a touch of angelic power he probably didn’t even realize he was drawing on dancing around the edges of his corporeal form. Crowley looked away, unable to meet the angel’s eyes when he admitted to all this. “So, I’m a demon, yeah? But I’m also a snake. And somehow all of that got tangled up into some kind of a  _ mating urge _ , and it’s possessive and scary, and I hate it.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, reaching up to touch his chin, and Crowley allowed his face to be turned. “May I?” he asked, reaching for Crowley’s sunglasses, and Crowley ripped them from his face himself, not quite ready for the intimacy of the angel touching them. “It’s alright. I mean, I had assumed you were just some variation of service top, but I suppose this makes sense.”

“You...what?” Crowley boggled. “How do you even know that term?”

“I’ve lived in Soho for two hundred years, and I read,” Aziraphale said, with that pissiness that Crowley absolutely adored. “And I didn’t just go to my club to  _ dance _ .”

Crowley shook his head, a few assumptions he’d made over the years rapidly realigning as he considered this new information. “You’ve had sex with humans?”

“Occasionally,” Aziraphale said. “Have you?”

“Mostly just for work,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale nodded. “I...it didn’t feel right, having sex with someone else, when...well, when part of me was so attached to  _ you _ .”

Aziraphale blushed slightly, but he wasn’t pulling away in disgust, so Crowley took that as a neutral, leaning positive sign. “And what does this mating urge feel like?” Aziraphale asked, and he sounded a little bit breathless, which Crowley also took as a good sign. “What does it make you want?

“Do you want the nice stuff first, or the nasty stuff?” he asked, with a thin, humorless grin, and Aziraphale smiled encouragingly. “Well, I like being able to do things for you: bringing you treats, finding you books, tracking down theatre tickets or restaurant reservations you might like. Rescuing you makes me feel like the best mate. Not that I enjoy it when you put yourself in danger, mind you,” he added sternly, and Aziraphale’s smile went a little embarrassed, but his posture was still firm. “I want to make a home with you. Create a nest full of things you’ll like so you’ll never leave me,” he continued helplessly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aziraphale said softly, but Crowley shook his head. The angel didn’t  _ get _ it.

“I want to  _ own _ you, angel,” he says, before the angel can add any more platitudes, tone going a little vicious. “I want to fuck you until you scream. I want to wrap you up in my arms, in my  _ coils _ , and never let you go. I want to hurt the people who hurt you, or who even look like they might hurt you. Sssometimes, when people flirt with you, I want to hurt them, too.”

Just talking about it was making it worse. He could feel his skin shifting into scales in places, could hear the hiss as his tongue forked and his teeth became fangs. He knew his eyes would be yellow from edge to edge, wasn’t even sure he  _ had _ eyelids anymore. His nails had become claws; not exactly snakey, but all the better to help him defend his mate from all comers. He wondered if the filling of his venom glands had caused his cheeks and jaws to swell.

And yet, Aziraphale still hadn’t moved, still seemed unafraid. He reached up again and placed one hand against Crowley’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over the patch of scales that had come up along his cheekbone. Crowley tried to shift out of his reach, but Aziraphale tightened his grip slightly, fingers digging into his jaw for a moment. Crowley forced himself to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, and the affection he found there was staggering.

“I haven’t heard anything that would be a dealbreaker, my darling.”

***

Crowley gaped. “You...what?”

“I said, none of that would be a dealbreaker,” Aziraphale said, so calm that it was making Crowley a little crazy. “I mean, I would rather you don’t hurt anyone who isn’t actually trying to hurt one of us, but I should think some of the possessiveness would settle down if you knew I returned your feelings, that I was yours.” The angel’s blush deepened at his words, but Crowley’s demonic senses could also detect a spike of lust coming from him. “I would like to be yours.”

It took every ounce of Crowley’s considerable willpower to keep from claiming him in a kiss, but after a moment, he didn’t have to: Aziraphale used the hand on his jaw to tug him down so he could kiss Crowley himself, tentatively at first, then more confidently as Crowley let out a small sound and tangled his still-clawed fingers in the angel’s curly hair. It was even softer than he’d imagined, softer than human hair should probably have been capable of, and it was  _ perfect _ .

Aziraphale let out a soft moan of his own, shuffling slightly closer, kneeling fully between Crowley’s spread knees now. Crowley growled, a sound he had no control over, and pulled Aziraphale up and into his lap, letting go of the angel’s hair to help position him, thick thighs around his waist, those perfect hands buried in Crowley’s hair. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s soft middle, and released just a little bit of the reins he usually kept on the desire to reach out and  _ take _ . Aziraphale was here, in his arms, right where he belonged.

Kissing Aziraphale was better than he’d ever dreamed. His lips and tongue were soft against Crowley’s, seemingly content to let the demon take the lead, which was just what he wanted,  _ needed _ even. He was surrounded in Aziraphale’s scent -- orange blossom and vetiver from his cologne, old books and vanilla and black tea, and beneath all that an ozone-like whiff that only an angel could produce. He pulled back from the kiss just to flick his tongue out to bring the scent into his mouth, revelling in it, then dove back in, nibbling the delicate skin behind Aziraphale’s ear (careful of his poisonous fangs) before kissing down his neck until his lips met the starched linen collar of his shirt. Aziraphale tipped his head to the side to make more room.

“May I?” Crowley asked, his voice husky, touching Aziraphale’s bowtie with careful fingers. Aziraphale nodded, a small breathy sound escaping his kiss-swollen lips, and Crowley undid the bowtie with one hand, leaving it to rest against Aziraphale’s chest as he unbuttoned his collar and the first button on his shirt, baring his neck and just a little bit of chest, a curl of silvery chest hair just barely visible. The buttons were a little bit of a challenge with the claws that still tipped his fingers, but he was too far gone to control that sort of thing now. Crowley explored the revealed skin with his lips and tongue, sucking a small red mark into the skin at the base of Aziraphale’s throat. The angel moaned, fingers tightening in Crowley’s hair, and Crowley smirked.  _ Mine _ echoed in his head, and for once, he agreed.

“W-we might wish to take this upstairs, if we’re going to remove more clothing,” Aziraphale said, shifting his hips slightly against Crowley’s, revealing both what style of Effort he was wearing and that he was reacting positively to the proceedings. Crowley’s smirk widened to a full devilish grin and he stood, his big, bony hands full of Aziraphale’s hips and bum to hold him up. Aziraphale laughed, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck to hang on, tightening his thighs’ grip on Crowley’s waist.

Crowley tipped his head to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s chin, then carried him across the backroom with ease. Even navigating the narrow stairs up to the flat above was easy, because he  _ wanted _ it to be. He’d never been in the flat before, not in all the years Aziraphale had owned the shop, but any exploration would have to wait until his arms were no longer full of gloriously heavy, horny angel. “Second door to the right,” Aziraphale said.

“And straight on ‘til morning,” Crowley replied, making Aziraphale giggle. Crowley headed that way purposefully, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stepping inside.

The room was dim, lit only with what little watery sunlight made it through the rain and the lace curtains, but Aziraphale lit the bedside lamps with a wave of his hand, filling the room with warm, butter-colored light. Crowley immediately took them to the bed -- barely noticing the hoard of pillows and the predictably-tartan bedspread -- and set Aziraphale down, leaning into him to kiss him breathless (had they been humans).

Aziraphale’s hands in his hair again kept him from pulling back too far when he ended the kiss, and he just stared for a moment, taking in the angel’s kiss-stung lips and blown-wide pupils, cheeks beautifully pink and skin already lightly sheened with sweat. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” Crowley said, breathless but firm, and Aziraphale nodded.

“Of course, my darling. My mate,” he added, with a smirky little grin of his own, and Crowley felt himself once again growl without any conscious thought going into it.

***

“I mean it, angel,” Crowley said, even as Aziraphale’s words caused his blood to heat. “I don’t want to hurt you.

“You won’t, but I understand,” Aziraphale said, with a small nod. He dropped his hands from Crowley’s hair, only to set those perfectly-manicured fingers to unbuttoning his own waistcoat and then the shirt underneath, revealing the vest below. Crowley stepped back and stripped quickly out of his own clothes, jacket and scarf and waistcoat and shirt hitting the ground in a tangled mess, not caring if his claws bit into the fabric. He slithered forward again just as Aziraphale undid the last button, so that it was his hands that pushed the waistcoat and shirt from his shoulders to tangle at his elbows, his impatient fingers that pulled Aziraphale’s vest from his trousers, sliding under the hem to touch the warm, soft skin of his sides. Aziraphale made a soft affirmative sound and started to reach forward, but the clothes tangled around his arms stopped him.

“Mm, now that’s an idea; for another time, maybe,” Crowley said, causing Aziraphale to blush even brighter, but with a click of his fingers, Crowley sent Aziraphale’s shirt and waistcoat to hang on the valet stand by the window. Arms freed, Aziraphale immediately grabbed Crowley’s shoulders, forefingers tracing over the freckles there. Crowley slid his hands up, over the curve of Aziraphale’s belly and the downy hair there, taking the vest with him. Aziraphale let go of his shoulders just long enough for Crowley to remove the shirt entirely, before burying his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck again. He flicked his tongue out to lick over the smooth skin there, and the angel shivered.

“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley licked again, learning the scent and taste of his skin, all his usual smells plus salt and sunshine; Crowley had a feeling he’d never get enough of it, but it seemed like, as long as he didn’t fuck this up, he wouldn’t lose access anytime soon.

With a push and some squirming, he got them positioned against the heap of pillows at the head of the bed, half-crouching over Aziraphale as the angel reclined against the pliant mound. “What do you like, angel, what do you want?”

“Anything, my dear,” he said, fingers still moving restlessly over Crowley’s shoulders and back. “Whatever you like. Show me I’m yours.”

Crowley felt a growl rising in him again and let it rumble through him and against Aziraphale’s skin, sucking another small mark against the milky flesh. Aziraphale’s hands made themselves at home in his hair again, gently holding him in place, and Crowley took that as an invitation to explore Aziraphale’s neck and jaw more thoroughly, leaving a scattering of red marks on his pale skin. Despite not really needing to breathe at all, Aziraphale’s chest heaved against his own, his inhumanly soft chest hair brushing against Crowley’s skin on every labored inhale.

Crowley bit down a little harder into the muscle on the top of Aziraphale’s shoulder, fingers digging into the pale curls on his chest, claws leaving faint red scratches, and Aziraphale moaned, clearly not averse to some rougher handling. Crowley tugged lightly on the hairs tangled around his fingers, smirking when Aziraphale leaned into the motion. “Next time, I’m going to just spend hours exploring every inch of you with my fingers and tongue,” he said, a distant part of him surprised at how smooth he sounded, the rest too caught up in the welcoming heat of Aziraphale’s skin. “But I think, right now, we’re in more of a hurry, yeah?”

Aziraphale hissed out an affirmative response, letting go of Crowley’s hair to start fighting with the snake-head buckle of his belt. Crowley laughed and reached down to help, and the next few minutes were a mad scramble to get naked, though he did pause to marvel (and chuckle) over Aziraphale’s sock garters. “They’re practical!” Aziraphale protested, and Crowley shook his head, but that didn’t stop him from snapping the elastic of one of them against Aziraphale’s calf before removing them. Aziraphale shivered and gripped the sheets beneath him, eyes blown so wide that only a hint of stormy blue-grey threaded with gold was visible in a ring around his pupils. He made no effort to hide his body as Crowley finished undressing him, and the demon was glad; Aziraphale had told him about how the archangels especially had been disdainful of the soft roundness of his corporation, but it seemed that the angel hadn’t taken their hurtful words to heart.

At last, they were both naked, and Crowley looked his fill, taking in the thick thighs, covered with slightly darker hair than what was on his head or chest; the blush that started on his face and went halfway down his chest; the dimples caused by the fold where thigh met hip; the delicate toes and high arches of his feet; and, yes, the thick, heavy cock resting against his belly now that it was freed of the confines of his pants. It had been literally thousands of years since Crowley had seen him naked, and even then he hadn’t been flush with arousal and ever-so-slightly slick with precome across the head of his protruding cock and where it brushed against the roundness of his belly.

Aziraphale was staring just as raptly, it seemed, eyes darting over Crowley’s lanky, freckled, practically hairless form. True, Crowley was always more willing to show a little skin, but a plunging neckline or low-slung denims (or a short skirt, for that matter) were very different than nude and aroused, with the intention of interaction in the immediate future. Crowley waited until Aziraphale’s eyes looked back up to meet his, smiling a little lopsidedly, prepared to apologize or make a joke about the jut of his ribs, the cut-glass points of his hips, the freckles scattered like constellations across his skin.

“Oh, my darling, you are so very lovely,” Aziraphale said instead, surprising him. “Simply beautiful.”

“Ngk,” Crowley choked in response, all earlier effortless charm forgotten. He knew many humans found him attractive, especially since slim, angular bodies were ‘in’ right now, but he’d always sort of assumed that Aziraphale preferred softness. His corporation appeared as he wished it to, after all.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale repeated, sliding a warm palm down Crowley’s flank. "And all mine, yes?”

“This thing goes both ways,” he replied, nodding vigorously. Not quite able to handle the intensity of the angel’s gaze, he pressed them together from chest to knee, burying his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder again, probably his new favorite place in the whole of Creation. Aziraphale’s arms came up to wrap around Crowley, and they held each other tightly, fitting together like two pieces of a particularly racy jigsaw puzzle. Despite being much slimmer than the angel, Crowley’s instincts rumbled happily at the idea that he was protecting his mate, putting his body between his beloved and the rest of the ridiculous, occasionally cruel world.

“My darling. My  _ mate _ ,” Aziraphale added, and from his tiny, pleased smirk, Crowley could tell the angel  _ knew _ what it was doing to him. He smoothed his hand over Crowley’s hair, brushing the dark auburn strands back from his forehead. Crowley nuzzled the skin under his mouth, and Aziraphale sighed happily, treating Crowley to the joyful experience of feeling Aziraphale’s pleased wiggle right up against his bare skin.

They lay that way for a long time, just revelling in the skin-to-skin contact, but eventually Crowley’s erection became too pressing to ignore. He pressed a suckling kiss to Aziraphale’s neck and sat back a little, settling on his knees between Aziraphale’s spread thighs. “What do you like, angel?” he asked. “What can I do to make you feel good?”

“To show me I’m yours?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley nodded, a little helplessly. “Take me, my darling,” he said, and everything in Crowley roared in agreement. “Make love to me until the only word I know is your name.”

Crowley let out a completely involuntary growling hiss of a noise, swooping in for a deep kiss that did leave them both breathless. He pulled back just enough to switch to Aziraphale’s neck, leaving a mark just above where his collar would hide it. Juvenile, perhaps, but he wanted to be able to  _ see _ his marks on Aziraphale’s body, even when he was all buttoned up again. And a part of him wanted  _ others _ to see that Aziraphale was claimed. Thoughts like this would have made him miserable before, but knowing that Aziraphale was into it, that he wanted to be  _ had _ by Crowley, to be his mate...

He nibbled carefully over the mark to reinforce the bruise, then worked his way down, over the delicious curve at the base of his throat, the just-barely-there lines of his collarbones, the smoothness of the skin over the rounds of his biceps and forearms, which were covered with more soft fuzz that glittered like gold dust in the low light. He buried his nose in the sweet, almost fleecy curls on his chest, where the body scents of musk and vanilla and ozone were stronger. Aziraphale’s hair was too soft to really be mistaken for human, but it meant that, even with his eyes closed, there was no mistaking who he was with. It was  _ wonderful _ .

Aziraphale wasn’t still either, running his fingers over the patches of scales on Crowley’s shoulders and neck, making pleased sounds whenever Crowley touched him. He gasped and jerked when Crowley wrapped a forked tongue around one peaked pink nipple, sucking the little nub into his mouth with a pleased grin. He lavished it with attention for a moment before switching to the other, nipping lightly this time, which got an even stronger response. Even so, he only stayed on that spot briefly before continuing downward, meandering kisses over the beloved curve of Aziraphale’s belly until he reached his hips.

Trailing his fingers over the faintly golden stretch marks that striped along the sides of Aziraphale’s belly and thighs, he glanced up, just to check back in. Aziraphale’s expression was full of anticipation and outright lust, and it was beautiful to behold. Crowley pressed a kiss to the hipbone closest to his mouth, then buried his face in the impossibly soft, dark gold hair around the base of Aziraphale’s cock, humming in appreciation even as Aziraphale’s hips bucked slightly and his fingers on Crowley’s shoulders tightened hard enough to bruise. Crowley didn’t mind -- if anything, he loved the idea of carrying his mate’s marks on his skin, too -- and responded by nuzzling into the patch of downy hair, before tipping his head to press a kiss to the heated skin of his cock. Then, practically before Aziraphale could react to that, he pulled back just enough to take the head of the angel’s cock into his mouth.

He would have grinned at Aziraphale’s surprised moan, but his mouth was busy. Aziraphale’s cock was already slick with precome, though perhaps unsurprisingly there was no bitterness to his taste, just a sweet saltiness that made Crowley’s mouth water. The mixed scents of ozone and musk were stronger still, here at his center, Creation’s most perfect perfume. Crowley wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, dug the fingers of the other into the plushness of Aziraphale’s thigh -- still careful of the claws -- and got to work familiarizing himself with Aziraphale’s luscious cock, and the wonderful reactions he could wring out of the angel.

Aziraphale’s hands had drifted from his shoulders back into his hair, tangled tight but not pulling or even guiding his movements. His hips twitched occasionally against Crowley’s hands, a near-constant stream of moans and praise tumbling from his kiss-plumped lips. All too soon, he tugged lightly on Crowley’s hair. “I’m terribly close, m-my darling,” he said, only barely stumbling over his words, and Crowley’s lips, already stretched around the magnificent girth of Aziraphale’s cock, tipped up in a smile. He squeezed where his hand gripped Aziraphale’s thigh, unwilling to release his prize for even a moment, but Aziraphale seemed to understand, because just a moment later he was coming, the thick sweetness of his come pouring down Crowley’s eager throat.

***

Crowley tongued gently at Aziraphale’s cock as he came down from orgasm, until he moaned a little brokenly and pushed Crowley away, clearly oversensitive. Crowley shifted to curl up against his side, long fingers tracing nonsense patterns over the swell of Aziraphale’s belly, claws leaving occasional light trails of red that made the angel shiver. Aziraphale took a little while to come down, chest heaving and expression still completely blissed out. Eventually, he turned his head to look at Crowley, so alight with pleasure that he looked like he was glowing slightly. Considering his angelic status, it’s possible he actually  _ was _ .

“Mm, that was wonderful, my dear,” he said, lifting shaking fingers to brush over Crowley’s swollen lips and flushed cheek. Crowley turned his head to press a kiss to his palm.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale practically giggled. “Just wanted to give you a moment to come down so you didn’t discorporate or something.”

“Very sensible,” Aziraphale replied, aiming for serious and missing by a mile. He tipped his chin down to look at Crowley’s own cock, still standing rigid against his belly. “And I suspect you intend to do something about that, as well?”

“I thought the goal was to get you non-verbal,” Crowley said, putting on a pretend peevishness they both knew was an act.

“I guess you’ll just have to try harder, then,” Aziraphale teased, and Crowley rolled over him with a playful growl, smothering him with ticklish kisses.

“On your back or on your belly?” he asked, and though it seemed to take Aziraphale a moment to understand, when he did he blushed brightly, despite all they’d already done together.

“On my back,” he said, quiet but firm. “I...I want to see you, my dear.”

Crowley’s blackened little heart fluttered in his chest. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Yes, but it’s been a very long time,” Aziraphale said.

“Up on your knees, then,” Crowley said, rolling to the side again so he could do so. “Just to start. Want to get you good and ready for me.”

Aziraphale practically leapt up from the bed, shifting to his hands and knees eagerly, presenting Crowley with the gorgeous view of his broad, strong back and plush bum. He ran a single claw down the elegant curve of Aziraphale’s spine, making the angel shiver, before once again kneeling between his spread knees. With reverent hands, he parted the full globes of Aziraphale’s bottom, and then fell into him, tongue first.

Aziraphale groaned, pushing his hips back against Crowley as if on instinct. Crowley’s own mouth was too busy to grin or smirk in response, his tongue occupied with exploring the delicate skin behind Aziraphale’s balls and between his cheeks, leaving off only to plant the occasional sucking kiss against his thigh or his rear, or even once directly against his hole, which made Aziraphale keen. Crowley hadn’t done this before -- had never wanted to, until now -- but he had a very talented tongue, whatever its shape, and was a quick learner. And, going by Aziraphale’s noisy reactions, he was figuring it out just fine.

It wasn’t long before he focused long enough to make the claws retreat, then introduced miracled-slick fingers to the mix, first one, then quickly working his way up to three as Aziraphale took him easily and all but begged for more. Crowley wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was manipulating his corporation to ease the way, or if he really was just that turned on, but it didn’t matter. Aziraphale’s tight grip on his fingers was entrancing, and he knew it would only get better when he switched to a different part of his anatomy.

He slid his fingers out of Aziraphale’s body and sat back, chuckling a little at Aziraphale’s nonverbal complaint at the loss. “Roll over, angel,” he said, tapping Aziraphale’s hip, and the angel hurried to comply, almost kneeing Crowley in the head in his haste. Crowley looked down at his flushed face and smiled softly, in a way that anyone who didn’t know him as well as Aziraphale did would find utterly foreign. “Hello, my own.”

“Please, my darling,” Aziraphale begged, hips shifting restlessly against the sheets. “Don’t tease me.”

“You love it when I tease you,” Crowley countered, but he tucked one of the myriad pillows under Aziraphale’s bottom to tip his hips into a more comfortable angle. He slicked his hand again with another miracle and wrapped it around his cock, hissing at the sensation. He squeezed himself around the base just once, to calm things down a little; the vision in front of him -- his angel, his  _ mate _ \-- open and waiting for him, was more tempting than anything he’d ever crafted to entice a human. He lined himself up, wrapped his free hand around Aziraphale’s hip, and slowly began to press in.

Aziraphale wailed when the head breached him, and Crowley paused for a moment, concerned. He’d thought the angel’s corporation was ready for him, but what if he’d been wrong? He wanted to take Aziraphale, to claim him, but he didn’t want to  _ hurt _ him. Certainly not like this. But Aziraphale shook his head, reaching out and grabbing Crowley’s arm. “Don’t stop,” he panted, rolling his hips a little, which caused Crowley to slide in just a fraction more. “It’s so good.”

Crowley nodded, understanding, and resumed his slow, smooth slide into Aziraphale’s body. He didn’t breathe until he was seated fully inside, bony hips pressed against Aziraphale’s plush rear, and then they both breathed out like they’d just come up from diving underwater. He brought his now-free hand to cup Aziraphale’s other hip and just stayed there for a moment, taking in all the sensations of their lovemaking, the sights and the smells and the feel of Aziraphale wrapped around him, tight and hot and as close to Heaven as he’d been since his Fall.

“Crowley, move,” Aziraphale almost whined, digging his heels into the backs of Crowley’s thighs. Crowley obliged, beginning to rock his hips, slowly at first and then faster when Aziraphale began meeting him thrust for thrust. Aziraphale’s cock, which had become fully quiescent after his first orgasm, was stiffening again, and Crowley watched in delight as it changed from a resting pink to a lustful red, standing up proud against his golden-furred belly. Crowley considered contorting his form to take the turgid flesh into his mouth once more, but decided he’d save that for next time.

There would  _ be _ a next time. Aziraphale wanted him, wanted to be his mate, and Crowley was going to show him that he’d made the right choice.

It wasn’t long before Crowley was fairly pounding into the angel beneath him. Aziraphale seemed to have lost the ability to make sounds entirely, merely panting heavily as he lifted his hips into Crowley’s thrusts. His thick fingers dug into Crowley’s upper arms, but when he released one to reach down for his cock, Crowley grabbed his wrist with lightning-fast reflexes and pinned it to the pillow above his head. Aziraphale moaned in disappointment, and Crowley favored him with a toothy grin, fangs very visible. “You’re going to come without touching yourself,” he said, when Aziraphale made an interrogatory noise. Crowley shifted the angle of his hips until he was rubbing against that spot inside Aziraphale that made the angel tip his head back and moan silently, then pounded against it, not letting up as Aziraphale found his voice again, just enough to repeatedly gasp out Crowley’s name.

Crowley didn’t know how long they went on like this -- minutes or hours or millennia -- but eventually Aziraphale stiffened and came, spilling over both their bellies where they were pressed close together. Crowley pulled out then, stroked himself once, twice, and then came all over Aziraphale’s chest and belly and cock, covering the hickies and scratches with streaks of his come, their release mingling. He groaned out Aziraphale’s name, the angel echoing his own name back to him, and then collapsed onto his side beside him, curling his arms and legs around the angel once more. Spent, he could feel his more snake-like features receding, back into the metaphysical plane from whence they’d came. He pressed a soft, fangless kiss to Aziraphale’s temple, and let his eyes drift shut in sleep.

***

Crowley woke some unknown time later, still pressed against his angel’s -- his  _ mate’s _ \-- soft side. Aziraphale had cleaned the sweat and spunk from both of them, likely with a miracle, but had left all the marks decorating his body in place. The sight of them, peppering that otherwise pale skin with spots and lines of color, should have made Crowley embarrassed, but the snake curled around his brain just hissed in satisfaction, and, knowing that Aziraphale could have easily miracled them away, too, he let go of any anxiety about them. Well, most of his anxiety, anyway; it never truly left him, not about this.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley looked up from the angel’s chest to his face. He was wearing his fiddly little reading glasses, and Crowley noticed that he had a book in his hand, held up to the one still-lit lamp so he could read. The other was draped around Crowley’s shoulders, holding him close, and if Crowley had been a cat rather than a snake, he would have purred. In any case, he wrapped his various limbs even tighter around Aziraphale, making the angel laugh and put down his book. His other hand shifted just enough to run through Crowley’s hair, fingertips scritching wonderfully at the back of his skull.

“Alright, angel?” he mumbled against Aziraphale’s side, voice somewhat cottony with sleep.

“Perfect, my darling,” he replied, tucking Crowley even tighter against himself. He could barely tell where he stopped and the angel began. “Go back to sleep if you like, it’s quite late. In the morning, we’ll need to discuss some things, but for now, you can rest.”

“Things?” Crowley asked, but even the coldness of his usual fear couldn’t build with the angel wrapped warm and lovely around him.

“Oh, where we want to make our nest,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt the breath go out of him at the casual way he said it, that last sliver of anxiety melt away like snow in spring. “I’d like to stay here, but if you want to split time between the bookshop and your flat, that can be arranged. Oh! And we’ll want to probably talk about sex some more -- set some rules -- and make a plan to mitigate some of those possessive urges that you don’t like, but that can wait.” He must have felt that Crowley had stopped his customary breathing, because he looked down with a questioning expression. “I mean, assuming that’s what you want, my dear.”

“It is, it definitely is,” Crowley said quickly, shifting until he was sprawling more fully over Aziraphale, causing the angel to laugh and shift to accommodate him, his thick, strong arms holding him in place. “My angel. My  _ mate _ .”

“ _ My _ mate,” Aziraphale countered, squeezing him, and Crowley grinned, drifting back to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Snakes don't mate for life, but this one does ;)
> 
> Guantang bao are big, soup-filled buns, and the progenitor of xiaolongbao.
> 
> [reblog link](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/post/630566924808536064/on-things-not-spoken-or-not-mad-but-mated)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/)!


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